


One Touch.

by patchesc137



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pining, Soulmate type shit, Unresolved Feelings, love at first touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchesc137/pseuds/patchesc137
Summary: Reader is an elven healer for Thorin's Company. Upon being locked in her cell in Mirkwood, Legolas visits her, and feels a connection.





	One Touch.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written from a request on tumblr , @patchesc-137 .

You can see now why Thorin and his company detested elves so much. You knew of the betrayal, when the dwarves needed the elves help and there was no help provided, but they were your kin, in some aspects. You wanted to give the King the benefit of the doubt. But this- imprisoning them simply because they were looking for shelter, without the intent of purposefully entering Mirkwood… Well, let’s just say you can understand.

You all arrived rather abruptly. The party was all but wrangled into the Woodlands by the spiders’ hunt. Huddled into an awful clearing with webs adorning their hair. None of you cowered away. The courage flowed strong though this group. You stood in front of them, the sword you had picked up from the trolls’ cave held sturdy in your hands. One swipe and one of the beast’s legs was severed. You were all aware that you were outnumbered.

Out of the shadows came different creatures, ones that looked like you. Tall, sleek hair, pointed ears and upturned noses. Terrible attitudes, which was not a character trait you possessed. Disdain for the dwarves, even though the elves were in the wrong, and had been since Erebor fell. It’s one with long, white hair that steps up to threaten Thorin, crossbow in his face. “Do not think I won’t kill you, Dwarf. It would be my pleasure,” To which you instantly stepped in front of the King, between him and the sharp arrow, with fire in your eyes.

“You will have to get through me, first,”

Legolas stops, bow still held high, but there’s a moment of hesitance within him. At first, it’s because an elf is standing up for a dwarf. The nerve! You are going against your kin, this way. But that thought quickly turns to the attention of his heart, which skips a bit at your flowing hair, your brilliant eyes, and the bravery it would take to accept a fatal arrow for your friend.

“I have no qualms about killing you, if you get in the way,” Legolas assures, keeping his eyes on yours as he does so. You do not back down, despite the ring of elves and their weapons surrounding you.

“I’d like to see you try,” you spit, arms spread out to protect the company. “Now take us to someone whom I can speak to about this mistreatment,”

There’s a long pause before the Elf Prince rounds up his troops, herding the dwarves toward the kingdom, though they protest rather loudly. It’s you who is behind Legolas, hands bound in front, walking with your head held high. You’re not afraid of him, or any of the Elves. Threats and the like will not intimidate you. Legolas thought this over, and his heart continue to fill his chest. It’s something new, especially to be felt for...someone like you. An outsider, he thinks, who abandoned your kin. He, of course, doesn’t actually know you. The mysteriousness of that, itself, kept pushing him to glance back in your direction.

“I would appreciate it if you stopped looking at me,” you growled, looking over his shoulder as you all continued to walk.

Legolas is surprised to be, once again, talked back to. Apparently, it doesn’t happen often. “And I would appreciate silence,” Still, from then until he wrangled you all into the kingdom, he kept his eyes in front of him.

Thranduil was no better, much to your dismay. You tried and failed to speak with him, convince him that you weren’t sneaking in, that you were chased into Mirkwood by the spiders. He wouldn’t believe you. Wouldn’t believe any of you. And the company was dragged, kicking and screaming, down to concrete cells in a spacious dungeon. 

You’re each doubled up, and your prison is shared with Thorin, who is looking at you as if he wanted to say something. The silence is broken only a few moments later. “I did not need you to intervene,”

“No, you didn’t,” you agree, turning fully to the King with an earnest but strong brow. “But I would have done it for any number of you,” He doesn't want to accept it, but he nods, putting aside his bias for long enough to thank you, albeit silently. It took much persuading on Gandalf's part to convince the dwarves to let you on the journey in the first place. You’d be helpful; you’re a healer, and if the only reason they didn’t want you there was because of your race, than that wasn’t enough reason. There was a lot of sniveling, a lot of silence. Now, it seemed worth it.

Time dragged on. You could have been in there for any number of hours, there was no way for you to properly know. It’s when your back is leant against the barred door, stare and attention on the wall, that Legolas comes down to check on you.

“If you told my father the truth, your fate would be far less incriminating,”

Your eyes dim instantly, refusing to look at him. “We are not lying. These are honorable people. Unlike some,”

He squints. "You will call us unhonorable because we protect our kingdom?"

"I will call you unhonorable because you refuse to help those in need," you speak not only of this instance, but because of the battle long ago.

"You know not of what you speak," he chides, staring down at you with a furrowed brow. You laugh a bitter laugh, and only then do you rise, holding the bars with your hands as you lean into them.

He stares down at you, surprised to find that he's been longing to see your face again. Hurt, that there is so much hatred in your expression. But he does not show it.

"I know that your father stood by and watched while a noble people were killed and run from their home!" your voice is shrill. You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you take a deep breath at Thorin's mumbled warning before he retreats to the stone he sits upon. You look up at the elf, keeping yourself calm.

"There are two sides to every story," It comes as a shock that his voice is softer than before. Sincerity gleams in his eyes. You think it a trick, but you keep contact

"Your father may not have helped them back then, but you can help them now," In a wave of emotion, you reach one hand out toward him. Legolas moves back- cautious for a moment- but you're able to meet his own, skin to skin. A feeling overcomes him. 

Thranduil has told him of this feeling, when words of his mother were spoken- a spark, of some sort; two souls bonding with one touch. Bright blues widen, moving up to you to see if you feel the same thing. You do, but instead of pulling away, you give a hopeful smile. A soft one.

"I think you'll do the right thing,"

A long pause before Legolas finally pulls his hand away, instantly missing the spark that pulsates through him only a moment ago. "I will have the guards bring you water in 3 hours time," he gave you one last glance before he was off again.

3 hours does not come to pass. Bilbo Baggins has come back, somehow gotten the keys, and let them all loose. What a wonderful burglar he turned out to be! Each dwarf snuck from their cell and along the stone walls, dodging elven guards and servants alike. Part of you hoped Legolas would have been the one to set you free, but he had a duty to his father. No matter how much you detested the King, that was something you could understand.

You're stark against the last wall before the barrels of freedom when you spot beautiful eyes gleaming in the light above you. No one else seems to spot Legolas lurking there except you. You plead with your own stare. _Do the right thing._ Legolas thinks back to hours prior, your hands touching, your soul connecting. Looking at you now, he knows the only way to win you was to let you go.

He sheathed his bow and watches you nod, giving him a sullen smile before you raced after the company. He would find you again, he swears. And silently, you hoped he would, too.


End file.
